The Shadow

The Shadow

Every night the shadow dances across my wall
Gone then in an instant, was it there at all?

I wait each night patiently, for it to come back
This shadow whose origins, I admittedly lack.

I envision in my head, the things it couldn't have been;
Not a graceful willow tree swaying gently in the wind--

Not a handsome virile man, rugged and tall--
Not the shadow of any human form at all.

Is it only an image that I created in my mind
A mere hallucination, no identity to find?

I believe the shadow intends to be fleeting in its pose;
Glimpses revealed sparingly, so you can't look too close.